I think there's something forming.
Yes. I'm quite sure of it.
I don't know whether to leave it for the morning.
If I do, it may be forgotten.
I'll scramble for my phone and make a note before it's too late.
Ideally I'd use a pen and paper
but there's not enough light and I'd stir my wife awake.
For her sake I'll strain to make out what I'm writing on this tiny screen.
I'll probably realise tomorrow it's not as important as it seems right now.
But it's purpose tonight is to be out of my head
to stop me tossing and turning restlessly in bed
while I come up with variations of this poem unsaid
that may prove to be...
gooder...
than it turned out here.
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